


Aftermath: Gralea II

by SunshineAndSnark (GoodApollo27)



Series: Aftermath [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gladio gets it right, Ignis is sweetest bro, Introspection, M/M, Minor Injuries, Nightmares, No sleep for Ignis, Poor Prompto, Prompto has a bad night, Slow Burn, Swearing, a pinch of fluff, chapter 13 spoilers, comfort snuggles, nothing to see here just two grown men cuddling, symptoms of anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 07:32:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12360708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodApollo27/pseuds/SunshineAndSnark
Summary: Having escaped Zegnautus Keep after rescuing Prompto and losing Noctis, the trio rests and regroups back in the relative safety of Altissia. Despite the comfort and security of their hotel room, Ignis can't sleep. Which may prove to be a blessing in disguise when Prompto's mind refuses to let go of all that has happened.





	Aftermath: Gralea II

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here we are. I'm still reeling from the amount of positive feedback that I've recieved for these little stories. I'm glad that they're being enjoyed. *Tears up. You guys... are the best. I really mean that. You've all given me so much motivation to write this.  
> That being said, I must announce that there will be one more story in the Aftermath series, following this one. And then a super fluffy epilogue piece that can be taken as canon to my other stuff, or thrown into flufftrashland. But do not fear, I will continue to work on other stuff, because FFXV will never leave me alone.  
> Sorry that this one took a while, I am currently working on two other FFXV fics.

 

Chapter 1

 

Perhaps it was the strange silence of the night, the stillness of a once lively city lying in ruins. Perhaps it was his own internal clock to blame, thrown out of sync from the lack of sunlight on his skin. Or from seeing nothing but constant darkness in the first place. Perhaps this is what happened with one’s blood buzzing through a constant supply of caffeine and worry.

Whatever the reason, Ignis could not sleep. Safely tucked away in one of the few  standing hotels in a relatively undamaged area of Altissia, the Advisor lay under a thin blanket, staring blankly up at the ceiling. He’d come to depend upon the familiar sound of his sleeping companions to lull his mind over the course of their journey. Ignis closed his eye, then opened it. Greeted by darkness, either way.

    No Noctis snuffling in his sleep as he buried his face into his pillow. Noctis was gone, taken from Ignis’ side. No low rumbling almost-snores from Gladio. The Shield decided to spend his night pursuing hunts, keeping the city clear of daemons while he scraped together funds to pay for their hotel. Prompto had always been the surprisingly silent sleeper of the group, likely reserving all of his volume and energy for the waking hours.

As a result, the atmosphere of the room hung stale. The silence grated on Ignis’ nerves more than it should have. It felt too unnatural, this thick calm. He felt himself longing for the faraway wildlife sounds and whispers of night air, the lovely crackling of the fire at a Haven campsite. 

If not for his lack of sight, he would simply get up and take a stroll through the night-shrouded city. While the sun could no longer keep the daemons in check, Altissia never wanted for artificial lighting, which served just as well. That, and Ignis never doubted his own expertise in fighting, in his ability to defend himself. He  _ had _ , that is. Alas… it was no longer an option. He’d just have to sit here until his mind stopped ticking along.

At least… at least his nights had improved from those first few in the hospital. Alone in that dark, quiet room, as reality sunk in. Nights languishing in silence, his painful body held rigid as rage howled in his chest, tore through his spinning thoughts. But he couldn’t let it out, had to keep the fury and despair held in tight. Lest he disturb the rest of the patients. He spent those nights in quiet rage, hands clenching around the bed sheets until he thought the bones would shatter, silently sobbing until his eyes positively  _ ached _ . All so he could remain strong during the daylight hours. And when he  _ did _ manage sleep, he dreamed. And when he dreamed, he could  _ see _ . It was agony. Pure, unfair, agony.

Tonight was an improvement, he supposed.

Ignis let out a weary sigh, just to cut through the silence. If only for a brief moment.

Through that very silence, a small sound drew Ignis’ attention. He tilted his head against his pillow, instantly alert. Furrowing his brow, Ignis sought out the source, but the room fell back under the shroud of silence. Perhaps he’d only imagined it? He waited, patient, muscles tensing as he prepared to summon his daggers, to defend himself and Prompto from whatever threat may emerge.

It sounded again, slipping softly through the dark and tapering away like a thin wisp of smoke. A soft, gasping whine. 

Ignis sat up, movements slow and quiet, head turning as he tried to pinpoint the origin of the tiny sound. 

Sheets in the bed next to Ignis’ rustled. Then, rapid stuttering breaths.

Ignis relaxed his posture. He knew the source.

“Prompto?” he whispered quietly into the void.

The noises cut off, accompanied by a soft click of teeth as Prompto snapped his mouth shut over his whimpers.

“Are you okay, Prompto?” Ignis asked, turning to face where Prompto’s own bed ought to be. He kept his voice soft, as if coaxing a terrified animal. And in all honesty, that’s how the gunner had behaved over the past week or so. After his imprisonment at Zegnautus Keep. 

After they left Gralea, he tried to laugh it off, to be light and bouncy and  _ Prompto _ . But Ignis knew. Gladio knew.  _ Anyone _ who knew Prompto would see through the act. Ignis didn’t need his sight to tell him what he could hear and feel from the young man. The strain in his voice when he laughed, the nervous fear in his silence. Ignis heard the rapid breathing that plagued the young man at random moments, felt how Prompto shied away when someone barely brushed against him. He tried to be strong, but Ignis didn’t need his eyes to see that Prompto was struggling to keep his pent-up emotions from spilling over. But...maybe those emotions  _ needed _ to spill...

No, Prompto was not okay. And he was  _ not _ fooling anyone.  _ And he would never  _ admit _ it,  _ Ignis grumbled to himself. No, he thought his own problems to be inconsequential next to everyone else’s. He thought he had no right to be upset. As if he hadn’t fallen from a bloody moving train, hadn’t been attacked and kidnapped and tortured and gods knew what else. And Prompto had yet to share what exactly that “else” entailed.

When they’d whisked their team mate to the safety of a break room to rest and recover, Prompto resisted Gladio and Ignis’ attempts at administering first aid. Every time Ignis laid his hands on Prompto to examine his injuries, violent tremors rippled under his skin. They’d managed with limited success, so long as none of them touched the mark near Prompto’s wristbands. He’d told them what hid underneath, what it meant. And they had viewed him no differently for it. But still he reacted with fear. 

Even more troubling were the descriptions of what appeared to be burn marks underneath, and Ignis loathed thinking that Prompto may be hiding further injuries from them. With his body already weakened from near-starvation and lack of rest, Prompto couldn’t afford the risk of infection.

When Ignis found moments of privacy with his comrades, he pressed Gladio and Noctis for any pertinent details. If he were to help Prompto, then he needed a complete mental picture. He needed to understand more than what his hands could tell him, especially if touching brought Prompto discomfort. He… didn’t exactly like the information gleaned from his two companions. But he needed to know.

Noctis managed to vaguely describe the room they found Prompto in, the cruel contraption that held him there. How Prompto hadn’t even raised his head from it’s slumped position when they rushed into the room. How he’d just collapsed onto the floor like a rag doll when they released him from his restraints. The look in his eyes… like he was terrified of hoping too hard, as Noctis put it. Like he was waiting for it to be revealed as nothing more than another trick of Ardyn’s. Like he was waiting for them to just turn their backs and leave him there. Like he’d… come to expect that...

Gladio told Ignis about the fresh bruises mottling Prompto’s arms and back, the smaller ones around his neck and along his jaw. The deep, miserable shadows that hung from his red-rimmed eyes. Ignis found it rather difficult to hold his calm facade as Gladio mentioned the deep split on the gunner’s temple and the smaller cut across the bridge of his nose. And the strange wounds that Prompto had never suffered during his time with them, but appeared old and healed over... The Chancellor must have used potions to keep Prompto alive when the injuries became too much. To draw out the suffering.

Ignis’ active imagination worked against him as his treacherous mind painted pictures of how Prompto would have received those injuries. It made him feel sick to hear, to imagine, but he needed to know what they were dealing with. It was necessary. 

But those were only the physical injuries. Mere physical pain would do little to satisfy Ardyn. No, Ardyn liked to  _ play _ with his victims. Revel in the drama of the show. All for his own sick enjoyment. Ignis knew from firsthand experience.

Prompto carried wounds far deeper than his bruises, ones that hid in places that no one would ever see. He could only pray that time and care would heal the scars on Prompto’s heart and soul. He dearly hoped.

Those scars, it seemed, were now rising to the surface. The muffled sounds of distress rang through Ignis, tearing through his chest with a startling ferocity. He needed to help. To comfort. To stop those sounds forever. If he could give even just an ounce of security to Prompto…

Ignis clenched his jaw as Prompto’s shallow breaths melted into hushed sobs. Unable to sit by and listen, Ignis felt his way to the edge of the bed before swinging his feet down to the floor. A chill seeped into Ignis’ bare skin, a reminder of the sun’s absence. Briefly, he wondered how this would influence the flora and fauna of Eos, and what that entailed for humankind.

He shook his head, messy brunette fringe shagging into his eyes. He could ponder the fate of humanity at a later time. He had other issues to attend, at the moment.

Ignis followed Prompto’s whimpers, prowling carefully toward the sound like a Coeurl to an infant Anak. Alert and aware of his surroundings, one foot carefully-

He stumbled, hissing out a quiet swear as his foot caught on something that felt suspiciously like one of Prompto’s discarded boots. Ignis smothered a flare of annoyance. Yes, he spent most of the journey scolding Prompto about leaving his clothes laying about, but he supposed that now counted as an opportunity to let it slide.

Finally, he reached the edge of Prompto’s bed without further incident, his hip bumping against the firm mattress.

“Prompto,” Ignis called into the dark. Exactly how dark  _ was _ the room? Would Prompto be able to see him? Best to announce his intentions, just in case. “I’m right here. I’m going to sit on the edge of the bed, okay?”

He received no answer. Perhaps Prompto remained asleep through all of this… He waited for a beat, but shook his head after some thought.  _ Awake or not, I’d rather not stand here all night while he suffers… _

Ignis climbed onto the bed with slow, cautious movements, settling with his legs hanging down the side. Nothing from Prompto, save the continued whimpering. Ignis bit his lip, making a decision.

“I’m going to reach my hand out toward you. Is that okay?”

Before he could move, the bedding exploded with a frantic rustle. Ignis jerked back as shaking hands shot out to fumble against his shoulder. Clumsy fingers grasped his pajama shirt, as Prompto tried to yank Ignis closer and shove him away at the same time. The Advisor sat there in Prompto’s trembling grasp, at a loss for what he should do. Prompto seemed caught up in the same state. 

_ What was the appropriate response? _ If Prompto didn’t want him near, then Ignis would oblige. At the same time, he didn’t want to abandon the young man if he actually wanted his presence. 

Not wishing to agitate Prompto’s fear of abandonment, of rejection by his friends, Ignis tentatively raised his own hand and rested it gently over Prompto’s. A feverish heat clung to the gunner’s skin. Fingers jerked in response to Ignis’ presence, but remained in contact. A small victory.  _ Progress. _

Prompto’s voice, small, hesitant, and frightened, crept out of the night.

“Ignis… This… this is real, right?”

Ignis’ heart clenched.

“Yes, Prompto. This is real. I’m real. The room, your bed. You’re safe, do you understand?” Ignis gave Prompto’s hand a gentle squeeze, then ever so slowly moved it from his shoulder.

“We’re in Altissia. You, Gladio, and I. We’re safe,” Ignis continued.

Prompto’s breathing stuttered through the air between them.

“But… but then that was… Wh-where’s Noct?” Prompto asked, voice going flat with dread.

Another knife in Ignis’ chest. He took in a deep breath, releasing it as a weary sigh. A memory flickered through his mind: Prompto howling in anguish after the Crystal stole his closest friend away, so soon after their reunion. Prompto fell quiet after that. So quiet. 

Ignis didn’t want to tell him, to make the clearly confused young man relive the pain. But he couldn’t lie.

“He’s… he’s not here. Not at the moment-”

Fingers dug hard into Ignis’ shoulders, cutting off his words as Prompto grew tense. Ignis let out a quiet hiss of discomfort, but remained still.

“I knew it…” Prompto mumbled. His body began to shake so hard that Ignis felt the vibrations through the bed. “I knew… Oh, gods…” His voice broke into a moan. “I-I… oh, gods, why!?”

Ignis reached out for the panicking man, but Prompto’s hands shoved him back.

“Prompto! Please, remain calm. Noctis will return. He will-”

“No! No… I… I k- _ killed _ him…” Prompto whimpered, a broken sound. “I killed Noctis! My friend! I  _ killed _ him!

The room felt too big, too open. It swallowed up everything, leaving only the echo of what Prompto had said. The implications of those words...what kind of nightmares did he…?

Ignis reeled, his thoughts scattering like dry leaves in a gust. Gritting his teeth, he snatched them back up. Prompto’s voice had guided Ignis through the darkness that swallowed his world… his life. His hands guided Ignis, always there if he stumbled. Always ready to help. Astrals be damned if Ignis was going to let his comrade fall prey to his nightmares.

“Prompto… Prompto, can you hear me?” Ignis asked, dropping his voice to a low hum. A few years ago, in another lifetime, it seemed, Prompto had told Ignis that his voice was magical. That it could comfort even a grouchy Behemoth. Of course, the young man had been thoroughly drowned in alcohol, babbling with little filter between mind and mouth as Ignis tucked him safely away to bed on Noctis’ couch and bid him a hasty goodnight. And good luck for when morning arrived with a hangover in tow. And to please, for the love of Shiva, show some restraint when enjoying drinks with the Prince.

Now, Ignis hoped that the words held true. If anything, perhaps he could distract the distraught gunner until the panic passed.

“Prompto?” Ignis pressed gently.

“Y-yeah?” Prompto shook in front of Ignis, his arms nearly vibrating against Ignis’ shoulders.

“Listen to me, Prompto. Noctis is fine. He went into the Crystal and he’s… he may be there for a while, I’m afraid. But he is alive. I promise it.” Ignis tried not to falter as he merely speculated on Noctis’ current state.

Ignis heard Prompto hesitate, though his breathing slowed somewhat. Still a tad too rapid and shallow for Ignis’ liking, but at least the young man no longer ran the risk of hyperventilating.

“But I-I  _ shot _ him! They told me to! G-gave the orders… I did it…had to follow orders... He wouldn’t stop  _ bleeding _ … wouldn’t stop staring at me and bleeding an-”

“Noctis is alive,” Ignis stated, cutting off Prompto’s feverish rambling before the gunner could work himself into another fit.

No response, only soft weeping.

“Summon your camera,” Ignis ordered, struck by an idea. 

Prompto did not respond, so Ignis urged him again, slipping in a dash of authority.

“If Noctis were dead, you would be unable to summon your camera or any other personal effects. Your link to his magic would be severed,” Ignis explained slowly, hoping that Prompto would understand in his flustered state. “So summon your camera, Prompto.”

Ignis waited, then heard the tell-tale crystalline shatter. He needed no other evidence.

“Noctis is alive. You had a nightmare, Prompto. As long as you can still summon your items, Noctis lives.”

“Are-are you sure?” Prompto whispered. He sounded afraid to believe, that if his hopes rose too high, they’d only come crashing back down. 

“Have I ever given you reason to doubt me?” Even though Ignis couldn’t see Prompto’s location on the bed, he had a good estimation and tilted his head to face the young man. His eye flicked to gaze sightless toward Prompto’s voice, seeking eye contact. One-sided though it was. But he hoped Prompto understood the weight of the action. 

Ignis no longer made an effort to hold eye contact with others. Mostly… out of self-consciousness, he was ashamed to admit. Lately, he kept his eye pointed downwards, relying on his tinted glasses to hide most of the damage. 

But given the hour, his glasses remained on the nightstand near his bed, his face bared to his comrade. His insecurity and self-consciousness bared.

“Have I ever lied to you, Prompto?”

A muffled gasp provided the only response. The mattress shifted, bedsheets rustling with a dry sound as Prompto moved. Ignis smothered an instinctive flinch as trembling fingers brushed across his cheek. He forced himself to remain still, never having been too fond of close physical contact. But he would endure. He would allow this. For Prompto.

A short huff of laughter made Ignis tilt his head in confusion.

“I can’t even tell what's real and what isn’t,” Prompto murmured. “I don’t even know if… if it matters…”

The panic seemed to subside, leaving behind a weary resignation in the tired hum of Prompto’s voice.

“I keep waiting for you to vanish. To wake up back in that room. Trapped w-while Ardyn… while that monster  _ messes _ with me…” His words trailed off as his hand dropped from Ignis’ face, landing limp in his lap with a soft thump.

Ignis remained still and silent, giving Prompto room to talk, now that he had calmed. Somewhat. This was the most that he had spoken concerning his days in captivity. If Prompto wished to vent his emotions in words, then Ignis would listen.

“He tricked me. Over and over. Wore different faces so he could mess with me.” Prompto took one of Ignis’ hands, brushing the fingertips against the healed over cut on the bridge of his nose. Ignis felt the tiniest hint of heat rising from Prompto.  _ Beginnings of a fever… Lovely… _

Ignis swallowed, holding his hand steady under Prompto’s guidance. The young man had, up until now, shied away from allowing others to inspect and tend to his wounds. To allow Ignis to feel what Ardyn had done, for Prompto to open up and share his ordeal with Ignis… it made such simple contact feel like a private privilege. He felt honored that Prompto’s trust in him overrode the gunner’s fear. He felt terrified of what he would learn. 

He wished that he could look into Prompto’s eyes, even if he had to see all of the sorrow and hurt darkening those blue skies. He wanted to see the light that he knew would be there, shining through the fog. The light that Ardyn had not,  _ could _ not snuff out. He wanted to be there for Prompto, to share some of the burden weighing on his companion’s mind. To seek and give comfort without using words.

“Gladio’s fists,” he mumbled, drawing Ignis’ fingers once more over the cut. 

He lowered his hand to his neck, and Ignis felt Prompto’s pulse fluttering as fingers rested lightly across his throat. Ignis couldn’t see, but he knew there were bruises there. Gladio had told him.

“Noct’s hands…”

Back up to the side of Prompto’s face. Ignis felt him wince as fingers glided over the deep slice near his left brow.

“One of your daggers.”

Fury flared hot through Ignis, rage boiling through his veins. How dare Ardyn lay hands upon him? How dare he hide behind their own faces while doing so? 

How. 

_ Dare _ .  

Ignis seethed silently until pain crackled behind his sharply furrowed brow. He drew in a deep breath, counting backwards from ten as he struggled to tame his emotions. Fantasies of revenge could come later. It wouldn’t do for Prompto to pick up on his agitation.

“You say it’s all real… but you’re just another lie…” Prompto whispered. He dropped Ignis’ hands and curled away. A whimper bubbled forth. Breaths grew faster as panic seeped back through the cracks. Resilience crumbled under the onslaught as Prompto shook.

Ignis didn’t pause to think, a rare occurrence. Hands reached out, bumping clumsily against chest and shoulders until arms wrapped secure around Prompto. Ignis drew the trembling man close. Prompto felt so terribly thin as he slumped against his chest. Never before had Ignis experienced such a strong desire to feed someone. 

For a moment, Prompto didn’t move. Didn’t cringe, or flinch, or shove away. Ignis waited. He’d already taken a risk in embracing Prompto like this, in confining the frightened young man within his arms. 

And then, Prompto leaned toward him, pressing against Ignis with a small whine. The Advisor released a long-held breath and waited for his heart to slow.  _ Thank the Astrals, that could have played out much worse… _

Now, he just needed to prevent Prompto from falling back into another panic. With slow movements and a light touch, Ignis reached out and guided Prompto’s head to lie over his breastbone, alert for any signs of discomfort or resistance. There were none. Ignis drew in several deep breaths, surrounding Prompto with the rhythm of his heartbeat and a steady hush of inhalations and exhalations.

“This is real,” Ignis whispered. He lifted his hand once again, running long fingers through messy blonde strands. A practiced motion that brought him several years into the past, to late nights where raven-colored hair ruffled softly under much younger hands. A child Prince hiding from nightmares in the arms of his closest friend. And further, until the roles switched and he was sobbing into his Uncle’s shirt. Hands smoothing his own hair as terror shook his mind with images of a bloodied young Noctis, life draining out from a gaping slash down his back. 

A thin whine called his mind back to the present.

“I want to believe it… I  _ want  _ to…” Prompto’s tears soaked into Ignis’ pajama shirt, sticking it to his skin.

Ignis began to sway softly, his hand never faltering from its gentle motions. His other arm encircled the tiny frame of the man who had long ago become his family. Back when he thought his family and home were lost. Prompto’s breaths came easier, the shakiness starting to subside under Ignis’ hand. He let his chin drop, resting it against blonde layers. He may no longer be relied upon to cook or fight or dress himself without assistance… he may not be as useful as he would like. But this… Ignis could do this.

“When I awoke in the hospital, I heard you singing to me,” Ignis whispered into Prompto’s hair, his voice barely a murmur in that quiet room. “We were alone, I believe, and you were singing to me. I’ve… often wondered if that moment was real, or just a product of my own drugged imagination.” Ignis breathed in, catching the scent of oily hair, of cheap hotel shampoo and gunpowder. 

“If that moment was indeed real, then I can assure you of this one, as well. You need not stand alone in your fears, Prompto. I’ll be there whenever you need me.”

“...Ig-” Prompto began to say something, voice raspy with the weight of shed tears. Whatever he intended to say dissolved into the night as Ignis began to hum. The deep sound reverberated in his chest, spilling up warm from his throat. Prompto fell silent and still. Very still. Recognized the tune instantly as one of his favorites. The one from long car rides. The one hummed quietly to pass the time. 

The one sung to a wounded friend in the dim shelter of a cold hospital room.

A barely stifled sob tumbled from Prompto as he pressed himself hard against the firm, safe warmth of Ignis. The Advisor smiled at the gunner’s forcefulness. If the smaller man could claw his way into Ignis’ ribcage and hide away next to the warmth of his beating heart… would even that be enough?

Ignis rested his cheek against Prompto’s head, singing out the words that he needed Prompto to hear. 

  
  


_ Whenever you’re in trouble, _

_ won’t you stand by me? _

_ Oh, stand by me, _

_ oh, stand now, _

_ stand by me, stand by me _

  
  


There, in the dark, Ignis held his dearest friend in his arms. He hummed low and soothing, rocking back and forth, filling their small room with sound to chase away the isolation and fear. 

  
  


<> <> <>

Prompto fell exhausted and boneless in Ignis’ arms about halfway through the song. A few times, he tried to raise his voice alongside Ignis, but his throat ached from crying. He contented himself with resting against the solid warmth of his companion.  _ Oh, the lovely warmth… _

After days enduring the frigid tundras of Gralea and chilled facilities of Zegnautus Keep, Prompto swore that the cold had leached into his bones for a permanent stay. Now, wrapped in snug blankets and a snug embrace, he finally felt himself begin to thaw.

“‘M s’rry, Iggy…” he mumbled, his mouth sticky and mind drowsy as sleep began to tug on his tired mind.

Ignis started into silence, as if falling from a tranquil trance.

“Hm? Whatever for?” he asked, stifling a yawn with the back of a hand. It returned to the back of Prompto’s head, weaving through the unruly tufts. Prompto let out a small contented sigh. How long had it been since he allowed someone to touch him? How long since contact brought something other than fear or pain? It was so nice…

“For wakin’ you up… Prob’ly both’rd you…” his words sounded slow.

Ignis chuckled and the noise sounded wonderful with Prompto’s ear against the man’s ribs.

“Bother me whenever you need. Please.”

Prompto shifted his weight. He wanted to stay close, wanted to never let go of this secure comfort now that he’d found it. Wanted to linger as long as possible before his mind turned on him with memories and nightmares, again. To just keep it for a little while and pretend it would last forever.

“Thank you, Ig…” he mumbled, curling up halfway across Ignis’ lap, his arms circling around the other man’s waist. His exhausted mind slipped into a wonderfully dreamless sleep, rewarding his battered body with the rest it so dearly needed.

  
  


* * *

Ignis smiled fondly as Prompto finally settled down and drifted off, his body relaxing into a dead weight. Right on Ignis’ lap. With a resigned sigh, the Advisor carefully leaned his shoulders against the headboard. Cuddling never ranked high on his list of favorite activities… Prompto, on the other hand… He’d lost count of the mornings in which he’d awoke to find the gunner’s wiry limbs wrapped around Noctis or Gladio. On rare occasions, Ignis fell victim as well. It could be rather terrifying. The small blonde clung like an octopus.

Ignis predicted a similar scene playing out by morning, and wondered if Gladiolus would take part in the light-hearted mocking that often followed attempts at dislodging their sleepy companion. 

A small mumble issued from Prompto as Ignis tried to adjust his position. Ignis let out a huff and remained where he was. Uncomfortable though he was, he couldn’t disturb this much needed, fragile peace. Especially if Prompto were catching cold, as Ignis suspected. 

The gunner’s poor immune system had certainly taken a sound beating over the past week or so. It was probably inevitable that Prompto would fall ill. Rest would be a top priority. And plenty to eat.  _ Perhaps I should attempt to reacquaint myself with the kitchen… _ Ignis mused.  _ Perhaps… perhaps Gladio could assist… _

Ignis rested a palm on Prompto’s shoulder, feeling the gentle rise and fall as his companion breathed. He let his mind spin freely, making plans for the next few days. Lists of supplies and things to do, things to relearn and things to discuss. Ignis sat awake and mused and watched over Prompto as the young man slept, ready to chase away any nightmares that threatened. That, he could still do.

Ignis let out a sigh, though it carried a note of contentment. He hadn’t had much hope for sleep, anyway. 

  
  


X X X

Gladio trudged down the dirty carpeted hallway of the hotel, wiping the sweat from his face as he checked the time on his phone. 1 AM. He’d have to be quiet if he wanted a shower. And  _ damn _ , did he want a shower. At least the hunt had cleared his head. He’d needed that. Sitting around doing nothing? Never sat well with him.

Yeah, he’d needed the time alone. He enjoyed fighting with the others as a team, but now Ignis was out of the question and Prompto… Gods, some days the kid looked like he could barely stand. It felt nice to just hack and slash with raw, reckless abandon, not having to worry about possibly decapitating Ignis or keeping an eye on Prompto. But even through the glowing satisfaction of exertion, of pushing his limits, Gladio couldn’t shake the worry of leaving his two friends alone.

Gladio fished his key card out of the pocket of his leather jacket and counted his way up to their room number. He reached out to swipe the key card, but hesitated when he heard a sound from inside. Crying, interrupted by the occasional soft murmur of a deeper voice. Gladio’s hand fell back to his side.

The deeper voice started to hum.

With a sigh, Gladio stuffed the keycard back into his pocket. His shower could wait. Those two… they needed this moment to themselves. He knew he couldn’t help Prompto. If people wanted to talk, then Gladio would gladly listen and chat with them. But he couldn’t coax things out of a silent audience like Ignis could. He couldn’t manage that gentle support that Ignis pulled off with ease. Emotional stuff just wasn’t his strong suit.

Gladio knew he couldn’t help Prompto with this one.

But maybe Ignis could.

He gave one last glance at the door, then turned away. 

Hell, he’d been so afraid of losing them both. First Ignis, then Prompto. Afraid that they’d break from what they’d been through. Afraid they’d give up. That they’d keep on living, but with broken spirits, faded shadows of the men he once called his comrades.

Thank the gods… Ignis remained determined. Prompto remained resilient. They just needed time. And… maybe they needed each other. They’d had each others’ backs for a while, now. And he was glad. Hated that he couldn’t help, but… maybe he needed to get himself sorted out, first.

Gladio wandered down the hall, heading toward the dull glow of a vending machine. He thought of long nights, trudging through the dark toward the faint glow of a Haven and the promise of sleep. The promise of safety. 

The last of his pocket change disappeared into the coin slot in exchange for a granola bar. That should keep him going ‘til morning. 

Settling cross-legged on the floor, broad shoulders leaning against the vending machine, Gladio chewed on the dry granola and meditated. He wondered when Noctis would come back. He wondered what he should do up until then. He wondered about what to do  _ after _ Noctis came back. He wondered if Noctis was okay. The kid never really liked being on his own. More so after losing his father and his home. And then he’d lost Luna… He’d almost lost Ignis… And then Prompto… Finally, the last bit of familiarity and security went up in smoke and flames with the wreckage of the Regalia. 

Seemed like all they did was lose, lose, lose. Gladio wasn’t accustomed to losing. Wasn’t too fond of it.

Leaning his head back and closing his eyes, Gladio let his mind drift as he listened to the droning hum of the vending machine. When he finally checked the time again, his phone read 2 AM. Gladio rose to his feet, stretched the cramps from his muscles, and returned to their door. He listened again, but heard only silence.

The tiny beep of the key card reader seemed too loud. He crept into the room and nudged the door shut behind him with a quiet click. A few slow steps, his boots nearly silent on the carpet and-

“Gladio? Is that you?”

The Shield jumped, heart jackhammering against his ribs.

“Shit! Why the hell are you still awake!?” Gladio rumbled, squinting into the dark.

“I… seem to be trapped,” Ignis answered, his voice oddly light. Amused?

Gladio pulled out his phone, the backlit screen bathing the room in a muted cyan glow. Ignis stared off into the distance, bare gaze pointed a few inches past Gladio. The milky white of his eye shone like the moon in the dull light.  The man would have looked eerie sitting there in bed, shadows hiding among the sharp angles of his face, scars murky in the dim light. The spooky effect was ruined by Prompto, sprawled across Ignis’ lap with one arm flung around the Advisor’s waist. The other clutched a corner of blanket, securing it over his shoulders. His mouth hung slightly open and-  _ oh, gods, is he drooling? On Ignis? _

“Huh. He okay? Gladio raised a brow at his two companions.

“He had a rough night,” Ignis explained, turning his head down toward Prompto. “Nightmares, it seems. But they’ve passed.”

Gladio stared at Prompto. He could only imagine what those nightmares involved.

“Damn it. Kid’s gonna lose it if Ardyn ever shows up, again.” 

Ignis’ teeth flashed in a snarl, eye glaring straight ahead with such an intensity that Gladio took a step back. He swore the room dropped several degrees.

“If that pompous excuse for a coat rack dares to so much as  _ glance _ his way, I shall take every dagger in my possession and sheathe them in his shoulders,” Ignis hissed.

“ _ Ifrit’s flames, Iggy, _ calm down. Guy’s immortal, remember? I sliced his damn chest open. Prompto shot him in the spine. Bastard just stood up and walked away with a smile,” Gladio growled, the memory igniting a small spark of anger. Iggy wasn’t the only one who wanted the guy dead.

Ignis sniffed, voice cooling. “Lovely. Then I can draw out his suffering at my own leisure.”

“Forgot how terrifying you can be when you’re pissed,” Gladio chuckled, realizing that Ignis was just venting.

“Hmph.”

The phone nearly fell from Gladio’s hand when Ignis absentmindedly ran a hand through Prompto’s hair, a caring smile melting through the snarl.  _ Maybe  _ I’m _ the one dreaming, here… ‘cause there’s no way…  _  Ignis didn’t  _ do _ touchy-feely.

“You’ve… gotten pretty protective of him,” Gladio said, before he even realized he was speaking. He felt like a jerk when he saw Ignis’ hand freeze. “Don’t get all embarrassed, Ignis. It’s a good thing. Kid needs someone to watch over him, now.” Gladio looked down at Prompto,eyes sliding over the cuts and bruises and thin limbs. “Probably will for a while.”

“...I suppose,” Ignis admitted. His expression softened under a light smile. “Seems I simply cannot function without fretting over  _ someone _ .” He let out a bitter little laugh that contrasted with the smile. “ A blind man to watch over him. How reassuring…”

“Iggy… you’re fine. Prompto trusts you. A lot. Hell, Iggy, the kid  _ adores _ you. You just can’t…” Gladio swallowed, the words waiting on his lips suddenly sounding horribly inappropriate. But he knew Ignis wouldn’t just let him trail off like that. “You haven’t noticed, I guess.”

Ignis didn’t respond, just letting the silence stretch out between them as he replaced his hand in Prompto’s hair. Not combing through, just resting there. A comforting presence. Finally, Gladio felt like he had to say something, or he’d end up standing there all night feeling like an idiot.

“Have you… uh, been awake the whole night?” Gladio asked, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. This was making him feel kinda’ awkward. He kicked his boots off near the doorway and deposited his leather jacket on the arm of a lone, worn chair as a distraction.

“More or less,” Ignis shrugged. Didn’t sound too concerned. His attention drifted back to Prompto. “I fear he may be catching a cold.”

“Hmm… Last thing the kid needs right now.”

“Indeed.” 

Silence, and then Ignis turned toward Gladio, mouth opening and closing as he struggled with words. The larger man waited, curious about what Ignis had to say. About what had him so worked up.

“If that’s the case… then keeping his strength up will be top priority. And cheap hotel food will barely suffice, I’m afraid.”

“You’re not gonna’ try an’ cook, are you?” Gladio demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. Last time Ignis attempted to re-enter the kitchen for a simple cup of tea, he’d ended up with burnt hands, a broken tea cup, and a new record for number of swear words uttered in a single day. Gladio really didn’t want a repeat of that. 

For Shiva’s sake, he knew the man wanted his independence back, but why couldn’t he just take this slow? 

Ignis bit his lip, hand stilling in Prompto’s hair.

“I was wondering if you would assist me?” he asked, voice quiet and hesitant. “I know several of Prompto’s favorite recipes by heart… If you would be so kind as to help with the preparation...?”

Amber eyes widened at Ignis’ words.

“Um, sure, Iggy. I’d… be glad to,” Gladio spluttered, a little dumbstruck. Ignis never,  _ never _ let him into the kitchen while he worked.

“Splendid. My thanks,” Ignis nodded, falling quiet. Probably already making a ten mile grocery list in his head.

Gladio stared at the Advisor and the gunner, closer now than ever before. Figuratively, and literally.

“You don’t look very comfy, Iggy. I can help you move? At least get your head on a pillow, instead of that headboard,” Gladio offered.

“I’d… rather not disturb Prompto…” Ignis sighed.

“I’ll be careful. He looks pretty conked out, at the moment. Probably won’t even notice.”

Ignis paused, considering. Finally, he nodded, and Gladio stifled a sigh of relief. Prompto wasn’t the only one who needed rest. Ignis could easily burn out if someone didn’t remind him to take care of his own damned self.

The Shield stood next to Prompto’s bed and waited for Ignis to gently disentangle himself from the younger man’s arms. Once freed, he aimed a nod more or less in Gladio’s general direction. Gladio eased Prompto’s upper torso off of Ignis, allowing the other man to scoot downward, adjusting into a more natural sleeping position. Prompto shifted with a vague mumble as Gladio rested him back against the mattress, nestled against Ignis. The blonde nuzzled his face firmly into Ignis’s shoulder, flinging an arm back over his waist.

Gladio let out a short chuckle. “Wish I could get a picture. This is too  _ precious _ ,” he teased.

Ignis shot him a glare. “I’ll not have you taunt him in a moment of vulnerability. It’s been difficult enough regaining his trust.”

“Cool it, Iggy. Was just kidding,” Gladio raised his hands in defense. “Anyway, I’m gonna grab a shower. Don’t want to get daemon blood all over the nice sheets.”

“So that’s what I’ve been smelling…” Ignis mused, crinkling his nose.

“Don’t tell me you thought it was  _ me? _ ”

“I thought it impolite to mention.”

Gladio shook his head, too tired to continue the light-hearted banter, even though it felt good to joke with Iggy like the old days.

“Well, goodnight, Iggy,” Gladio said, turning toward the bathroom and a well-earned hot shower.

“Goodnight, Gladio. I would much appreciate if you could wake me at seven?” Ignis requested.

Gladio ran a hand down his face, shaking his head. “Sure thing, Iggy. I’ll set an alarm on my phone.”

“Thank you, Gladio.”

“No problem.” Gladio jabbed a few random buttons on his phone, the keys clicking under his fingers.  _ Seven, my ass. Two can both sleep in, tomorrow. _ He’d deal with Iggy’s wrath when it happened. He shut the bathroom door behind him. Yeah, sleeping in sounded like a good idea. Gods knew they all needed it.

**Author's Note:**

> So the theme song for this one was going to be "No Light, No Light," by Florence + the Machine, but then I was writing the cuddle scene and a song called "Quiet" by Sheridanway popped up on a random mix playlist I was listening to and... wow... is all I can say. Might have made me tear up a little.


End file.
